A Change Of Heart
by everydayisagift
Summary: "But surely," she said quietly, "this is the Mudblood girl? This is Granger?" Bellatrix laughed cruelly. "Take them to the cellar. All except… except the Mudblood. Draco can deal with that."  Dramione. Disregards the end of DH.
1. Chapter 1

We were strangers  
>Starting out on a journey<br>Never dreaming  
>What we'd have to go through<br>Now here we are  
>And I'm suddenly standing<br>At the beginning with you

"But surely," she said quietly, "Surely, this is the Mudblood girl? This is Granger?" Bellatrix laughed cruelly, dragging back her left sleeve. As she was about to press her forefinger against the Dark Mark, she froze, her eyes fixed on the sword in the Snatcher's hands. She muttered a few incoherent words before saying in her usual, loud, menacing voice, "Take them to the cellar. All except… except the Mudblood. My _dear_ nephew can deal with _that_."

Draco Malfoy, who was looking down at his feet uncomfortably, glanced upwards nervously as his aunt addressed him. "Come, boy," she sneered beckoning him over. It took a few moments before Draco found his feet, and he shuffled to stand by his mother's deranged sister.

Bellatrix Lestrange flicked her wand, and in an instant, she was clawing at the neck of a girl Draco knew all too well, a girl – a _Muggleborn_ girl – Draco reminded himself, that he had grown up overshadowed by. Though now, he could not help but feel such pity for her it was overwhelming. She whimpered softly as Bellatrix's long fingernails pierced her neck. Though Draco could not see the said neck or hand, he was sure that behind the wall of deep, honey blonde hair, blood was being drawn.

A vice-like hand clawed at Draco's wrist, and tugged him forward roughly. Before he knew what was happening, he was standing in his family drawing room. It was dark inside, and somehow cold, even though there was a fire roaring in the marble fireplace at the end of the room. The deep purple walls made Draco feel claustrophobic, and the crystal chandelier the hung from the room was laced with spider's web. Draco shivered, but not out of cold.

Weasley yelled out in anger as Bellatrix threw the girl to the floor. "HERMIONE!" he roared. Bellatrix whipped around, her flyaway black hair giving the impression of madness. _The perfect perception_, thought Draco numbly. His hands were tingling with anxiety of what was coming.

"SILENCIO!" screamed Bellatrix, her eyes flashing, pointing her wand at the red-haired boy. "Take that blood traitor filth to the dungeons! And take the half-blood _swine_ with it!" Mulciber and Nott shuffled forward obediently from the shadows of the room, grabbed Potter and Weasley, and dragged them down to the cellar.

There was only silence, except for Bellatrix's furious panting, and the muffled sound of footsteps on stone. The two Death Eaters climbed back up the stairs, and re-took their positions by the walls.

Granger lay in the middle of the room, directly under the dusty chandelier. Draco's mind spun back to when he was a young boy, before he went to Hogwarts. He would run into this room, tear open the curtains, and lie right under the chandelier, right where Granger now was. He would look up at all the crystals, gleaming in the sunlight, twinkling and winking at him. He would feel so happy he felt like he was floating up there with them, like he was so far off the ground that nothing could touch him.

And then he would hear the front door slam, and Draco would leapt from the floor, sprint to the windows, pull the curtains shut, and hurtle from the room into the foyer to greet his father as he came home from a day out in the world. If Draco was out of breath when they greeted, Lucius would be suspicious, and send the house elves to inspect the rooms for anything unusual. If the curtains had blown slightly open during Draco's speedy exit, or there was a mark from the bottom of his shoes on the floor, Draco would be severely punished. His father _hated_ light.

After Draco had gone to Hogwarts, Lucius had ordered the elves to board up the windows and permanently stick the curtains together so Draco could never enjoy the light drifting onto the beautiful crystals ever again. Lucius hated light, and Draco bought much of it to the Manor, much to his father's dismay.

Draco opened his eyes, the memories swirling away from his mind's eye. All he could see now was darkness. Dark and dim, the way all the Death Eaters, especially Lucius, liked it. Bellatrix had calmed down significantly, and her mouth was moving as she faced him, though Draco heard none of it.

"DRACO!" yelled Bellatrix, brandishing her wand. Draco felt a sharp burn on his right arm, tugging him back into reality. "Did you listen to a _word_ that I said?" she snapped. Draco was not game enough to talk back to his insane aunt, so her merely hung his head and shook it. She huffed haughtily, and said smoothly, "You are to torture this vermin until she cracks and tells everyone where she stole the sword from!"

The blonde haired boy shook his head vigorously and moved back into the shadows, as the girl from the floor whispered something softly.

"What was that, Mudblood? Have something you want to share with us?" mocked Bellatrix. Hermione pushed herself up off the floor, so she was sitting on her knees, and looked, furiously, at Bellatrix.

"I _said_," she stated angrily, pronouncing each word punctually, "That I, nor Harry or Ron, stole _anything_." Bellatrix looked ready to explode. _Wrong move, Granger_, thought Draco.

"HOW DARE YOU LIE TO MY FACE, YOU PATHETIC PIECE OF SCUM!" screeched Bellatrix, wielding her wand like a cat-o'-nine-tails. "CRUCIO!"

The girl on the floor wriggled and tossed like an alligator was attacking her, and Draco could see she was trying with all her might not to scream. She was biting down on her bottom lip so hard it was close to drawing blood. Bellatrix released the curse, and danced around a little, panting almost as much as Hermione. Bellatrix had a look on her face of pure excitement and joy, and the thought that causing pain like that to an innocent person was 'fun' make Draco want to vomit.

"Does that hurt, you dirty little pest?" called Bellatrix, high off her twisted moment of happiness. Hermione didn't answer, and the mad woman in front of Draco laughed loudly and cruelly. Her laugh was not jubilant, but bitter and evil, cutting through the air like an army of knives. "Bombarda Maxima!" yelled Bellatrix, blasting the ground next to Granger to smithereens. Luckily, she managed to roll out of harm's way. "Diffindo!" she yelled, and Granger, yelled out as her clothes were ripped and her skin was cut open by an invisible force. "Draco! Get her! Cruciatus Curse!" called Bellatrix mercilessly.

The blonde-haired boy once again shook his head and pushed himself further away from the crazy woman, too frightened and disgusted to speak. "Cat got your tongue, boy?" ridiculed Bellatrix, laughing her demented laugh again. "You _will_ torture her! You _will _get the truth out of her! It's time to become a man, Draco, just like your father! IMPERIO!"

Draco cringed as the Imperious Curse collided with him. Every emotion was stripped from his mind, all the uneasiness, and all the fear gone. He felt light and oddly happy. A voice was talking, and the words wove into his head. _Walk to the Mudblood,_ ordered the voice.

Immediately, Draco shuffled forward until he was standing over Granger. His eyes were unfocused and staring off into space. _Torture her,_ ordered the voice coldly. Why? Another voice had popped into his head, and Draco recognised it as his own. What has she ever done to me?

_Torture the Mudblood, Draco. _The voice had changed. It was now crooning and oddly sweet: it did not suit at all. The words sounded forced and, though it was said almost tuneful, it was dark and fiendish. Very deep down, Draco knew that he would have to be stupid to trust the mystery voice and do its bidding, but he couldn't resist. It was as if his body was obliged to follow the orders, while his mind was uneasy.

_Torture the Mudblood, Draco, _it said yet again. Draco felt his hand moving toward his wand. NO! screamed Draco inside his head, but it was useless, his hand was now holding his blackthorn wand in his hand, the tip of it pointing at Granger.

_Crucio,_ the voice encouraged, and the word was laced into his mind. _Crucio, crucio, crucio,_ the strange voice chanted gleefully. "C-crucio," whispered Draco, his heart not in it. But the words seemed to be enough, in spite of the fact that the wizard who had said it did not want it to happen. It was more like the _voice_ wanted it, and Draco was just being used. Which is true, Draco's brain thought miserably.

"Well done, Draco!" screeched Bellatrix, euphoric. The voice and the happy feeling were gone, replaced with Draco's dismay and anxiety once more.

"Now didn't that feel great, my _darling_ nephew?"

Draco was too shocked to speak. He had done the Cruciatus Curse on an innocent person; on a _girl_; on someone his _own age_; who was fighting for the greater _good._

"Again, Draco! Or shall we need some more _encouragement?_" As if to emphasise the word, Bellatrix brandished her wand at Draco, once more placing the Imperious Curse on him. The light feeling washed through his body again.

_Crucio,_ came the voice.

"Crucio," said Draco, eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. Hermione wriggled and twisted on the floor, pitifully whimpering.

"Where did you get the sword from, Mudblood?" whispered Bellatrix dangerously.

"W-we found it!" insisted Hermione, tears streaming down her face like a waterfall. She was telling the truth, Draco could tell. He wanted Bellatrix to stop; he wanted to scream at her, to say that Granger was telling the truth. Internally, he wished he could cradle the vulnerable girl, who was now silently bawling.

_Again, Draco_.

"Crucio."


	2. Chapter 2

No one told me  
>I was going to find you<br>Unexpected  
>What you did to my heart<p>

_Again, Draco_, commanded Bellatrix's voice.

"Crucio," murmured the blonde boy, his concentration elsewhere, his eyes unfocused and dreamy. Granger thrashed on the floor, still fighting the urge to scream. She's so brave, thought Draco.

"Will you answer now, Mudblood? WHERE DID YOU GET THE SWORD?" screeched Bellatrix, shaking with anger and frustration.

"We fou-found it…" she insisted, tears cascading out of her eyes.

"DO NOT LIE TO ME! WHAT ELSE DID YOU TAKE?"

"N-nothing…"

Bellatrix screamed in exasperation; one hand balled up around her wand, and the other tugging at her own hair in rage.

"IMPERIO!"

The now familiar feeling of the Imperius Curse washed over Draco. Something heavy and metal was forced into his hand. _Kneel, Draco. Kneel next to the filthy Mudblood._ There was so much venom imbedded in Bellatrix's voice this time, he couldn't even think about disobeying her. He fell to his knees, bringing up a sharp pain he didn't even know he could feel.

_Cut her arm, Draco._ As hard as he tried, he could not resist. His arm floated over to Granger's left forearm, where skin was exposed. The knife swished down quickly, and Granger stifled a scream of agony. _Good, Draco. Now, carve 'Mudblood.'_

Panic took over Draco's brain. No… no, I can't! No! Don't make me, he thought frantically. His hand that was holding the knife was slowly moving to Granger's arm. "I-I'm so s-sorry," he managed to choke out, using the last of his energy to resist for that long. The point of the knife was on Granger's skin, and in an instant, she was screaming at the top of her lungs.

As Draco, half deaf from Granger's screams, finished the _d_ of _Mudblood_, there was a loud crack from the cellar below. "What was that?" asked Bellatrix sharply, her posture like a meerkat on its hind legs. Everyone in the room was silent; except for Granger's sobbing. "Wormtail. Go and check the cellar," ordered Bellatrix quietly. The rat-like man scurried from the shadows and down the stone steps.

"Stand back," came Wormtail's voice from below them. "Stand away from the door. I am coming in." Silence followed his words and Bellatrix let out a sigh of relief.

"Well," said Bellatrix haughtily, "if the little Mudblood will not answer to me, then she will answer to the Dark Lord!" Bellatrix yanked her sleeve up, revealing the Dark Mark, and pressed her forefinger to it. She laughed cruelly as Granger's eyes flew open in terror.

"Greyback, take the Mudblood. I don't want her in my sight anymore." As Bellatrix finished her sentence, ice filled Draco's insides. The feral werewolf started forward, Draco pointed his wand at Greyback.

"Don't y-" he started, but was cut off by Potter, yes, Potter, barging up from the cellar, Weasley not far behind him.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" roared Potter, disarming Bellatrix with Wormtail's wand; Weasley caught the wand as it flew over Potter's head. Light flew from Greyback and Narcissa's wands as Draco flattened himself on the floor next to Granger. Avery and Rowle snuck out of the room.

There was a strange grinding noise, and everyone in the room looked up to see Dobby the house-elf sitting on the crystal chandelier, unscrewing it. Draco knew he had only seconds, so he scrambled to his feet, scooping Granger into his arms as he did so. The chandelier smashed on the floor, spraying shards of crystal all over the occupants of the room. Narcissa visibly cringed as a piece of transparent material flew into his eye.

"Dobby…" said Narcissa weakly. Dobby had a fierce look in his eyes, and he pointed his finger at Bellatrix accusingly.

"You will not hurt Harry Potter and his friends!"

"Get out! Out, elf!" screamed Bellatrix. Dobby ignored her completely, and beckoned Potter and Weasley to follow him to where Draco was standing, supporting Granger.

Bellatrix swelled with anger. "HOW DARE YOU DEFY YOUR MASTERS, YOU DIRTY MONKEY!" Dobby straightened up, a furious yet proud look on his small face.

"Dobby has no masters! Dobby is a free elf, and he has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!" Dobby grabbed Potter and Granger's hands, while Weasley placed his hand on Dobby's tiny shoulder.

Bellatrix roared in anger, hurling the silver knife at the group. It was flying right at Granger. As Draco leapt in front of Granger, two intertwined yells of his name from his mother and the girl he was saving. As the knife dug into his stomach, he felt a small hand on his back, weakly trying to push him away from the line of fire; there was a loud crack and his drawing room vanished from his sight.

* * *

><p>The first thing that hit him was the salty smell in the air. After so long stuck in the Manor, it felt amazing to be out in the fresh air, waves of cold sea air whipping his face. Draco had little time to enjoy it before a deathly, searing pain spread from his stomach.<p>

"Dr-Draco? Oh Merlin…"

Someone had crawled next to him, and was examining his wound. The person let out a sob before yelling as loud as they could (which was not very loud at all).

"HELP!" the person screamed croakily. "Help! Someone… h-help…"

There were multiple running footsteps, curse words, something being pulled from his stomach, and then black. Draco keeled over, passing out in agony.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry that this chapter is shorter than the first! Thank you to everyone who read andor reviewed! I hope you like the story so far :) **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I've been reading through the other two chapters I have up, and just noticed all of the mistakes. I'm so sorry for that! Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who read my story and, especially, to everyone who reviewed! So without further ado, here is the next chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter.  
><strong>

When I lost hope

You were there to remind me

This is the start

Everything was black. Draco felt no pain whatsoever. It was as if he was floating in the stars, admiring all the constellations and meteors. Draco felt his eyes flicker open, but it was still black. He blinked, and objects swam before him. Brown and beige intertwined in the air, as well as baby blue. Draco blinked again.

A worried face was above him, looking down. The face was beautiful, and Draco longed to reach up to it, but his muscles had seized up and wouldn't let him move at all.

Once again, Draco blinked, more forcefully this time. The first thing he saw was Granger's face, eyes red and bloodshot. He then noticed that they were in a room, a very small room at that. Draco blinked as he looked down. He was in a bed.

Wait, what? He was in a bed, Granger was next to him, yet he was not in Malfoy Manor, so where was he? He tried to remember, but all he could think of was blackness; empty pits of blackness that tunneled on for eternity.

"Wh-where am I?" asked Draco wearily. If he had been up to scratch, he would have mentally kicked himself for sounding like a cheesy movie character, but, to be honest, Draco wasn't in the best shape at that moment, and the fact he actually formed a coherent sentence was nothing short a medical miracle.

"Shell Cottage," replied Granger, her voice still croaky. She opened her mouth again, and elaborated as Draco raised one eyebrow at her bemusedly. "Bill and Fleur Weasley's house."

As soon as Draco heard the name Weasley, he scrunched up his face in a disgusted manner. Granger glared at him. "Don't pull that face!" she snapped. "They offered you sympathy, treated your wounds, gave you food from their table… and you can't even get over a little grudge! Perhaps I should go tell the boys that you are awake, and that I changed my mind. They wanted to lock you up, just so you know, but here you are, thanks to _me_."

Draco tried to smirk, but it ended up as a grimace. "That isn't what I meant," he started, trying to think of an excuse. "It's just… my stomach hurts." All the contempt in her eyes vanished. _Good job, Draco_, he thought. Granger turned, and busied herself at a small table squeezed into the corner of the tiny room. Draco slumped back onto his pillows, already tired.

When Granger spun back around, she was holding a mug. He gave her a puzzled look as she shoved it at him. "Drink. It will numb the pain." Draco raised his eyebrows. _Was it safe?_ He thought, half unsure if she was trying to poison him, half ready to gulp down the concoction to get rid of the pain that had swelled up inside him. It seemed his excuse had triggered something inside him, and it was now coming true.

"Oh come on," she said, rolling her eyes indignantly, "you really think that I would poison you? After all of this, you think I would _poison_ you?" Draco just looked at her, his eyebrows still skyrocketing towards his hairline. Granger sighed. "Thanks," she said sarcastically, still thrusting the mug at him, "Just drink it."

Draco took the cup from her and drank deeply; her voice had so much finality in it, it felt natural that he should trust her.

Almost instantly, all the pain faded from his abdomen. He set down the teacup and looked up to see Granger smiling smugly at him. "See? No poison." She took the glass out of his hands, and set it on the small table again. "Not yet," she added with a grin.

They were in silence for a moment, then Draco cleared his throat, saying, "So, Granger… what were you saying about Potter and Weasley? I mean, I usually don't care at all about them – still don't by the way – but you did say something about… imprisonment, was it?"

The girl blushed, but looked up at him. She seemed to be weighing up her words in her mind, and finally said, very slowly, "Yes… It seemed that Harry and Ron, as well as Dean and Fleur, deemed you as… hmmm, untrustworthy. They seemed to think you had, ah, ulterior motives, so to speak."

"Ulterior motives?" said Draco, mockingly raising an eyebrow. "That's funny. I never have ulterior motives."

Hermione laughed dryly. "Of course not." She stood up, and walked to the door. "You're going to need some sleep in order to recover. Goodnight, Malfoy." She shut the door behind her, and Draco was silent for a while.

"Goodbye, Hermione," he eventually whispered.

* * *

><p>"Ron? Harry?" I called, up the stairs. There was a clunk, a scrape, and the creaking of a door opening before Harry emerged. He stood on the landing, and looked down the rickety stairs at his best female friend.<p>

"Hey Hermon," he said, smiling gently, using the nickname he and Ron had created all those years ago. "What's up?"

Barely a moment after the words had left Harry's mouth; Ron stormed out of Griphook's room, slamming the door behind him. "The sooner we're rid of that _f-_" he then spotted me, and stopped himself before he could speak ill of the goblin – he knew how I was with magical creature treatment.

"Oh, hey Hermon! What were you guys talking about?" he asked, trying to cover up his near-slip of the tongue.

"Harry was just asking how I am," I replied, smiling to let him know he was off the hook – for now.

"I think the question should be 'how's life with the ferret?'" he guffawed, Harry clapping him on the shoulder as the two boys chuckled in unison. _Dorks,_ I thought.

"He's really not that bad," I insisted, knowing I was fighting a losing battle.

"Not that bad?" Harry repeated, incredulous.

"Hermione, he's a _Death Eater_," finished Ron. I rolled my eyes. Harry and Ron had an uncanny way of finishing each other's sentences, much like Fred and George. Of course Ron would go out of his way to use my actual name in attempt to convince me. Eurh. Flattery.

"Whatever. How's the Gringott's plan going?" I asked.

"Terrible," muttered Ron.

At the same time, Harry said, "Fine… We're planning to go tomorrow or the next day, get the Horcrux, and then come back. In the mean time, you're figuring out ways to destroy it, right?"

I smiled weakly. "Yeah." I didn't think it was wise to mention that in between helping out Fleur, eating, sleeping and catering to Malfoy's every need, I had barely 4 hours in the last _week_ to read. And to me, that is _not enough._

* * *

><p>Draco watched from the kitchen window as Granger waved to Weasley – now disguised as Rodolphus Lestrange – as the former ginger disapparated. Draco didn't even pretend to fathom what was going on, and did not want to ask; when Draco's creepy uncle walked into the room, Draco had had a hissy fit, and tried to curse him. It was later explained to him by a screaming Granger that his 'uncle' was actually Weasley with Polyjuice Potion.<p>

That night, the winds howled and shook the tiny cottage like it was a box of matchsticks. Granger was 'sleeping' on a mattress on Draco's floor – there was no room anywhere else – and she actually couldn't sleep. Draco, on the other hand, was sound asleep, well, sort of. He was having a nightmare, again.

He was dreaming that Death Eaters were looking for him. They were searching far and wide, determined to get him back, and to punish those who "kidnapped" him.

Draco watched helplessly as the Death Eaters broke into the cottage, killed Fleur and Ollivander, stormed through the house, and finally found him and Hermione, tortured her, and chained him up. Her screams bounded around his head, and he was trying to wake up; he was shaking himself, _no_, someone was shaking _him_…

His eyes opened suddenly, and he saw Granger, shaking him to wake him up, screaming. Quickly, he sat up, and focused on her words. "DEATH EATERS! QUICK, WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE! THEY THINK YOU BETRAYED THEM! THEY'RE GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Draco leapt up, grabbed the hysterical girl's hand, and tried to apparate, but couldn't. "No! This house is charmed! We have to get outside!" she cried, wringing her free hand in desperation.

Without further ado, Draco sprinted to the door, wrenched it open, and ran, tugging Hermione with him. When they reached the living room, it was chaos in its pure form. Bodies littered the floor; Hermione's heart lurched as she spotted Fleur and Ollivander's corpses. Draco noticed them too, but he knew they were long gone, and if he didn't get out of there soon, both he and Granger would be joining them.

Clearly not thinking straight, Draco once again scooped the Muggleborn witch into his arms. He leapt over the coffee table, clambered over the couch, and dashed right out of the door, dodging spells as he went.

He heard someone yell the Killing Curse, and Granger screamed, leapt out of his arms, and pulled him to the ground as if in slow motion, narrowly saving him from death.

As soon as they were out of immediate danger, Hermione grabbed his hand, scrambling to her feet, and then spinning on the spot, slightly ungracefully. The next moment, he felt as though a Muggle car crusher was compressing him: as though he was being squeezed and twisted like an old towel being rung out to dry.

And then it was gone. His feet found solid ground.

"Where are we?" he gasped, looking around, and not recognizing anything at all.

"Alice Springs," replied Granger, equally as puffed.

"Wha-?"

"_Australia_, Malfoy."

**A/N: Longer chapter, yay! Sorry about the weird "Ron-Becoming-Rodolphus" thing. I know it isn't realistic, but I didn't think that making Ron becoming Bellatrix would be good – though it would be hilarious. Also, I couldn't quite remember the exact layout for Shell Cottage – such as where the rooms were exactly, so, sorry about that one. Anyways, I hoped you liked it! Please R&R!**


	4. Chapter 4

Life is a road

And I want to keep going  
>Love is a river<br>I want to keep flowing

Life is a road

Now and forever  
>Wonderful journey<p>

"Australia?" he choked, disbelieving.

"Yes," she barked, pulling a small bag from her jacket. It was purple, and had beads dangling off it. To Draco, it kind of liked like a small, violet pumpkin.

Draco was confused when she started stamping her foot on the ground, apparently testing the firmness. She gave a thoughtful smile; her mouth bunched up at the side… her white teeth nibbling on her bottom lip… such a perfect pink colour the said lip was… _WHAT? I did _not_ just think that. Snap out of it, Draco! You need some food._ _All this lack of nutrition is messing with your head, _he thought, shaking himself ever so slightly.

"Hey, Granger? Can we eat soon?" he asked tentatively.

She looked over, her expression unreadable. "Yes, Malfoy, I will make us some breakfast once I find a good place to pitch the tent."

Draco gaped at her, and started talking as she walked towards him. "A tent? Where in the name of Merli-" he was cut off by Hermione's disapparation.

"What the hell, woman? Why wo- where _are_ we?"

"There is a small town not far from here. My great-aunt moved here when she couldn't deal with cold English winters at home anymore."

They were standing on a beach. The sun was slowly rising, casting a glow over the water; making it look like fields of canola: fields of gold. The pair stood watching the sun for a while in comfortable silence, each just enjoying the sun's early morning rays seeping into their skin.

Subconsciously, the two moved closer together: though the sun was beautiful: sharp, cold chills stabbed at them every time the wind whipped around.

The tranquillity was perfect. The slow lapping noise of the waves mixed with the comfort of a warm person nearly made the two fall asleep. As Granger laid her head on Draco's shoulder, he surprised himself. He didn't react; he didn't even think of reacting at all. In actual fact, Draco felt quite pleased that she trusted him enough to do so. The blonde, who had barely known that kind of trust, was engulfed in an unfamiliar feeling. It was almost the feeling of delight. _Almost_.

The air was split open by a loud "whoosh." A green light flew at the pair, narrowly missing both, and, somehow, a red light flew back at their attacker. Granger looked at Draco in question, but he was already walking toward the stunned assailant.

Before them lay a boy, no older than 12 or 13, stunned. In one hand was his wand, and in the other, a rusty matchbox car. "Portkey," grunted Draco, confirming Hermione's theories, as he bent down to check the young teen's pulse. His hand rested on the boy's wrist; meanwhile, Hermione knelt down to check the stranger's head for possible injuries.

Draco glanced over at the boy's face as he stood up. Granger looked over her shoulder worriedly at his intake of breath. The look on his face made her scramble to her feet swiftly. "Malfoy? Malfoy, what is it?" she asked, half curious, half very, very worried.

Despite her best efforts, Draco continued to stare at the boy, unblinking. "Malfoy? Come on, snap out of it!" she clicked her fingers in front of his face, trying to get him to get his attention. She huffed angrily, and said under her breath, "Merlin, Draco!"

The use of his first name seemed to bring him back to earth. He turned his head and looked at her, about to say something, but he thought better of it. He knelt down by the child again, and drew back the teen's left sleeve. It was Granger's turn to gasp this time.

Draco stood up, beside her. "This is Claus Nott… yeah, Theo's brother. I had no idea he was a Death Eater… My family doesn't talk to them anymore. Not since-" he broke off suddenly, and Granger looked at him with question written in those deep brown eyes of hers.

"Theo's family kind of, exiled him from them when he ran off with Parvati Patil. _Heaven forbid thou shalt elope with a Half-Blood_," he quoted with a fake accent, the contempt shining in his eyes. Regardless of the serious situation, Granger laughed, and Draco sent her a weak smile.

Hermione pointed to Claus. "We should send him back."

"We should also obliviate the memory of us being here," suggested Draco, "that way, he won't be punished for letting us slip through his fingers, so to speak." Hermione nodded along, and Draco performed the charm.

"Portus," whispered Hermione, her wand pointed at the small car in the young boy's hand. The car glowed bright blue, and with a _whoosh_, he was gone.

The pair stood in less than awkward silence; the taller of the two staring at the place where the young boy had lain; the boy who Draco considered his kin, his flesh and bone. Theo would want him to protect his little brother, the brother that the pair of older boys had practically raised. Theodore and Draco had believed that if they had kept Claus away from the vile and cruelty that was the Death Eaters, that Claus might have a good life: a better life than they.

The shorter of the two watched the taller one's blank face. After a while, the shorter felt the overwhelming need to break the other's intense concentration.

"Hey, Malfoy?" asked Hermione quietly, hoping he wasn't too lost in his own thoughts. Draco turned his head slowly to gaze at the small witch beside him, his platinum bangs falling into his eyes.

"I-I didn't stun Claus…" she hesitated, curious as anything but not wanting to pry. "I didn't stun him, and your wand is in my bag…"

Her voice trailed off, hoping he got the gist. He continued to stare at her, absolutely no expression on his handsome face… _I did not just think that, _thought Hermione.

Just as the length of staring was beginning to fall into the "creepy" category, Draco Malfoy cleared his throat. "You may be the _smartest witch of your age_, or so the newspapers print, but you are not the only one in our year who received multiple O's on their OWL's. Furthermore, you are also not the only one who happens to be accomplished in wandless and/or non-verbal magic."

Hermione gaped at him, yet before she could respond, Draco, still peering into her eyes, said, "My apologies. I shouldn't have been so blunt." Hermione shook her head, muttering something along the lines of, "No matter, no matter."

They stood in silence again, questions clouding their minds. _Where will we go now? What will we do? What is happening to everyone else?_

Both were too lost in thought to notice the small pop behind them.

Neither noticed the slight squeak the sand made as someone walked up behind them.

Yet both leapt out of their skin when the person spoke.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"


	5. Chapter 5

I'll be there when the world stops turning  
>I'll be there when the storm is through<br>In the end I wanna be standing  
>At the beginning with you<p>

Her lime green glasses were askew: many more petite diamantes absent from the wings on her glasses. Her bleached blonde hair was now showing signs of grey re-growth, and where once her hair had fallen in perfect ringlets, it now barely fell at all: just heavily matted and dirty. Despite the odds, her crocodile skin handbag was nestled into the crook of her right arm, still perfectly in tact. In her left hand was the biggest bottle of Firewhisky either of the teens had laid eyes on, and she clutched to it as if it contained all of her hopes and dreams.

The woman abruptly let out a high cackle, before cutting her laugh short with a swig of alcohol. She stumbled slightly, regained her balance, and pointed a cracked, burgundy talon at Draco's face, nearly scratching his nose. He shuffled backwards, his expression torn between disgust and confusion.

"Your daddy's not a very happy camper," she slurred, taking another gulp from the giant bottle.

"He's been stomping around with his pals, looking for you, boy!"

_Gulp, gulp._

"OH, and now, _now_ he's got all them Snatchers out searching high and low!"

_Gulp, stop, belch… gulp again._

"But _I_ found you! Me! I'll get all the rewards, and then I can publish my story on your little love affair here, with Miss-" her sentence came to a grinding halt as her bloodshot eyes narrowed upon spotting Hermione, as if she had just apparated there.

If one were to bottle the contempt radiating from the intruder at this point, one would have needed an even larger bottle that the one containing Firewhisky. Something seemed to have switched on in the drunken woman's head, causing fire to erupt deep in her hazy blue eyes.

"You," she spat, almost dropping her prized bottle in order to point at both Draco and Hermione simultaneously.

"Rita," replied Hermione curtly, "how have you been?"

"What, since you ruined my reputation and got me hooked on booze? Swell," she snarled. "And you, Little Miss Perfect? Moved on from Krummy and Potter? Been running about with a higher caliber of wizards now?"

Rita Skeeter snorted at her own innuendo; took, once again, a swing of alcohol, and, without waiting for Hermione to reply, bulldozed through, reviving her rant.

"Regardless, _Brightest Witch of the Century_," Skeeter mocked half-heartedly, "your petty existence means less than usual at the moment."

_Gulp_.

"See, those stupid Sna-" she began, swinging the bottle around and stumbling forward, before a booming voice cut her off.

"BERROW, YEH FLAMIN' IDIOT! WHERE 'AVE YEH LET THE BLEEDIN' DRUNK SCAMPER OFF TEH NOW?"

Hermione's heart faltered and then leapt to her throat: the voice, painfully familiar. Memories came swirling back in her mind's eye, but she pushed them away, trying to keep her breathing patterns normal as she struggled to subtly pull her wand from her back pocket without hexing herself. _I should have listened to Professor Moody_, she scorned herself silently.

Draco took his glare of the blonde reporter he had once been acquainted with, to glance at the small brunette next to him, who, at first, seemed to be putting something in the back of her jeans. She was, in fact, trying to take something _out_ of the said jeans.

What Hermione didn't realize was that the wand she was so desperately trying to tug free was caught up in the catch of a loose thread.

The boy with the naturally platinum hair turned back to his unwelcome visitor, and caught sight of a dirty, rugged man covered in blood lumbering up the sandbank behind the visitor.

"SKEE'AH?" he roared, accent heavy.

The alcohol numbed her reaction, but after a second she whipped around, tripping, and falling into the sand.

"Wha' chu got there, yeh drunk b-"

"STUPEFY!" yelled Draco, his aim spot on. In the second it took for the man to crumble, Rita Skeeter leapt to her feet, fairly gracefully for someone so intoxicated. She glanced between the pair, about to speak when-

"WHAT THE BLEEDIN' 'ELL 'APPENED TO BERROW?"

Three more men stumbled up the steep embankment. After catching sight of Rita they all began to throw insults, and the smallest of the gang, clearly just as intoxicated as Rita, also threw spells before-

"Enough."

The voice was deep and more dangerous than the mispronounced, heavily accented voices of the other men. The three men on the hill ceased immediately and split, leaving plenty of room for another man to join them. The smallest one tripped on the stunned body of Berrow, and fell, promptly knocking himself out. The newest arrival, the leader, did not as much as turn his head or blink.

Draco considered fighting their way out, but his plan was soon crushed as he realized it was 3 properly trained wizards against two, though intelligent, amateur teenagers. And Hermione's wand was still in her back pocket, caught.

"Rita," said the leader, actually addressing her properly, unlike his followers, "What do you have here?" When she did not make haste to reply, he sighed, but continued nevertheless.

"I do believe that is Mister Malfoy, Rita. Do you remember our agreement?" He paused momentarily, as if he actually cared for Skeeter's opinion.

"Our agreement was that we keep you alive, out of jail and healthy, in exchange for your information and the boy if you find him. You have found him. Now, uphold your end of our agreement, Rita." The man snarled her name darkly as he came to the closure of his impromptu speech.

The sun had properly set now, and both parties were bathed in darkness. A howl arose from far behind the men on the embankment, yet the followers shifted uncomfortably, regardless.

Rita turned slowly towards Draco and Hermione, sizing them up. There was a yell of, "NO!" as Rita leapt at Draco from her spot. Shock infiltrated his system, freezing him in his tracks. She clutched at his arm as he finally recovered, going to hex her when a loud crack split the air.

He looked at Hermione with anxiety written across his face, and yelled her name as he was whisked away to another place.

**A/N: Finally I have finished another chapter! So, thoughts? Yay, or nay? Even though I would like you all to say yay, you should say nay because it sounds like neigh. I'm rambling. Sorry. Please R&R! Love you all x**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Wow guys, its been a while, eh? I can't apologise enough. Honestly. **

**So a lot of things have happened since I last updated (shocking, isn't it? A lot of things can happen in what, a year? More? I don't know.) **

**A/N # 2: I moved from Australia to the other side of the world – France – where I'll be living until November. I've been here for 3 months already, and I love it here. **

**A/N # 3: In terms of writing and fanfiction and stuff, I feel horrible for leaving this story – and I want to finish it. My planning has been lost to the winds, and I'm sure it was going to be a lot longer than it will be, but whatever. C'est la vie (that's life)**

**A/N # 4: I have other ideas for fanfics, but I want to finish this one first, so I'll tie it up in a few more chapters, and then work on the other ideas I have.**

**A/N # 5: Thank you so much for reading my story so far, and I am so, so, so, **_**so **_**inexcusably sorry for leaving this. **

**So off we go, as I continue with my old piece of (shit) writing (pardon my French). Allons-y!**

_**We were strangers on a crazy adventure  
>Never dreaming how our dreams would come true<br>Now here we stand unafraid of the future  
>At the beginning with you<strong>_

"_GRANGER!" yelled Draco, reaching out to grab her arm, fear and shock clouding his stormy, grey eyes. He was so close to grabbing his Muggleborn companion; just a few more inches-_

_CRACK._

And then there was nothing: nothing but eerie silence. He was gone. Draco Malfoy was gone. Rita Skeeter was gone. Hermione Granger was standing on an Australian beach in the dead of the night, alone.

Alone, save for three Snatchers who stood on the sandbank nearby, all wanting to take Hermione into the Ministry of Magic and get their Galleons in exchange for her freedom – and that was thinking positively. At the bottom of the sandbank lay two more Snatchers, both knocked out: one due to heavy intoxication and the other due to Draco's stunning spell.

Hermione backed away, holding her wand out in front of her, attempting to be menacing. Her mind flew through all the places she could apparate to, but her reluctance to leave automatically came from the knowledge that the world was so huge, and without these 'men' (as deplorable as they were) she would never find Malfoy.

_Draco, _her mind corrected, before she could resist.

She ignored herself, and continued to move back as the vile Snatchers moved forward. Unsure as to why they had not taken to mocking her already or trying to scare her (further) with their words, she yelled, "Come any closer and I'll hex you!"

Their cruel laughter rang out in her ears, surrounding her with the bands of sound that shook her to her core. 

"Sure you will, sweetheart," crooned the shortest of the three, inducing a guffaw from the tallest. The snatcher in the middle said nothing; he glared: his proper posture giving Hermione the shivers as she acknowledged that it was not just the scum of society that had been poisoned by the seeds of Snatchers.

"Sure you will," he repeated, his voice quieter and more dangerous than ever. "And if you do, you'll never know where that drunk idiot and ya little boyfriend gotten to, eh?"

An unexpected little spasm of pain leapt across the chest of the brunette at the thought of that. Malfoy had risked his life for her multiple times, and while she could not comprehend why, it impaired her to think that there was a possibility that the folds of the universe would hold her away from being able to repay that debt.

She pushed away the term _boyfriend _anyway, silently scoffing at the complete and utter falseness of the word in this context, and instead used her draining confidence to attempt to knock about the assurance the group of Snatcher's had acquired, somehow.

"Skeeter's gone, and she's unpredictable. She could be anywhere. You don't know anymore than I do," she said, putting on an air of importance.

He laughed again, and, smirking, replied, "You think you're clever, eh, Mudblood?" She winced at the word carved into her skin.

"… We knows that dumb bitch is 'un-pred-icti-able'," he sounded out, badly impersonating her accent.

"… And so, we've a got those –"

The short, portly Snatcher was cut off by his leader; whom, when he started talking, caused the two minions of his to scurry a few metres more in sheer fear. Hermione's brow furrowed – though she detested the Snatchers, they themselves were victims of the oppression they imposed on others.

"Oh, go ahead, tell the little Order girl all our plans, so she can go back and blab to her little Mudblood and Muggle-loving friends. Well done," the leader snarled, snapping his wand arm toward the minor man, bringing about some ungodly jinx or hex to punish him.

Hermione scoffed again, putting up the wall of indifference while wildly rummaging through her extensive brain to formulate a plan to get to Malfoy, save his arse from Skeeter, then get back home to find Harry and Ron – and preferably not get hurt while doing all that.

"Like the Order would care about you," she said, faking a laugh. She watched the eyebrows of the leader go up and then furrow – he believed her. She let a bitter laugh out now, a real laugh, because everyone always believed her fake laughs. God, Harry and Ron had believed them for years.

She stopped now, and pushed away the though of the boys. Tenderness twinged in her chest, thinking about them being hurt, but it faded so easily. She pondered for a moment on why it didn't remain, why it didn't wound her like she thought it would – it was a gentle ache rather than almost physical pain: rather than the feeling when confronted on the wellbeing of…

"…and wouldn't you know it, she's not even listening to us," jeered the leader, busting through the (previously impenetrable) barricades of Hermione's thoughts.

"_Expelliarmus!" _cried another.

The creamy hands that came from creamy shoulders covered by frizzed ringlets of toffee brown clutched desperately at the wand in vain: it flew gently through the night air and was reunited in the calloused hand of the largest.

Turning swifly, she ran, the ringlets flowing from her shoulders as she sprinted as fast as she could away from them. She was wandless and alone on unfamiliar soil with unwelcome, abominable men.

Unwelcome, abominable men who were once again cackling.

"_Stupefy,_" came the low voice of the head.


End file.
